


Splinters

by clawstoagunfight



Series: Worth 1000 Words [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Infidelity, M/M, Relationship Problems, happy ending happens post-ending, rocky waters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawstoagunfight/pseuds/clawstoagunfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows when he walks in the door that something’s wrong. </p><p>Maybe it’s the way Derek is sitting on the couch, hunched over with his head buried in his hands, the lights in the room dim and the day old newspaper crumpled in a heap on the coffee table. Maybe it’s the way Derek doesn’t look up at him, the way his shoulders tense and he takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s the way Derek doesn’t say anything, even as Stiles settles on the other end of the couch, waiting. </p><p>Maybe it’s the way Derek doesn’t have to say anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splinters

**Author's Note:**

> Un beta'd, so all of the mistakes are mine.
> 
>  
> 
> ***Spoiler is in the end notes.

 Stiles knows when he walks in the door that something’s wrong.

Maybe it’s the way Derek is sitting on the couch, hunched over with his head buried in his hands, the lights in the room dim and the day old newspaper crumpled in a heap on the coffee table. Maybe it’s the way Derek doesn’t look up at him, the way his shoulders tense and he takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s the way Derek doesn’t say anything, even as Stiles settles on the other end of the couch, waiting.

Maybe it’s the way Derek doesn’t have to say anything.

It’s a while later, both of them sitting in what feels like perfect listlessness, the stilly silence cutting through their thoughts like something sublime, when Derek finally speaks. “We need to talk.”

Stiles closes his teeth, traps the sigh inside of his lips and swallows it down. “I know.”

“I did something.” Derek says it like a question, like he’s waiting for Stiles to answer him, but Stiles says nothing, doesn’t even move to look at him. “I didn’t mean to. You have to believe me.”

 “I do.” It isn’t even a lie, not this time. “It’s okay.”

“No,” the venom in the word draws Stiles’ gaze like a compulsion and he sees Derek shaking his head, hands moving with the effort of still cradling his skull. “It’s not.” He lifts his forehead from its fleshy throne of fingers to look at the other man, the ghosts in his eyes dancing like a man in red iron slippers. “I’m trying to tell you I’ve been having an affair.”

The dancing ghosts crawl into Stiles’ chest, their greedy hands wrapping around his heart—pulling, squeezing—until Stiles can’t breathe, until his head feels heavy and his eyes are unseeing; he closes them, opens the prison of his mouth and swallows down air. “I know. I’ve known for a while.” His voice doesn’t break; he opens his eyes.

Silent voices, words unsaid, shaking hands.

“I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to hurt you.”

Platitudes, platitudes, platitudes.

Stiles lets out his sigh, feeling it all the way into his bones. “I know, Derek. I know.” Neither speaks again for a while longer, until Stiles looks back to his former lover. He once thought that they would spend their lives together: like they’d built a boat together; cast their hearts to sea. Like they’d be able to overcome the waves and the tide and the current that would rage against them, like the wind would never be able to shift them from their course. But this must be the part where their ship wrecks, where Stiles is left stranded and alone. He’ll be the castaway, left drifting. “How did this happen?”

It’s rhetorical, of course, but Derek answers with a shake of his head. “I wasn’t happy.”

Stiles nods, even though he feels like shaking and crying. “I know. I wasn’t either.” A deep breath to steel his nerves. “When did we become so unhappy together?”

It hangs in the air, souring their already rainy expressions, until Derek mutters a soft—so soft that Stiles can barely hear it—“I don’t know.”

And that’s it. That’s the most important thing either one of them has said so far, because it’s honest, and real, and so _painful_ that Stiles feels the hand on his heart constrict again, but he forces the pain down.

Deep breaths, clasping fingers, trailing tears.

“I’m sorry.”

Recompense, recompense, recompense.

Time passes, like it must, slowly. Minutes gradually bleeding into minutes under the cruel hand of the antique grandfather clock in the next room—ticking, ticking, ticking along—like it’s chained up to his heartbeat.

“I’m going to keep loving you for a little while longer, if that’s okay.” His voice breaks and he drops his head into his hands, feels the way Derek reaches out to smooth a line down his back, and even now, after everything, it comforts him.

“Yes.” Derek breathes. “It’s okay, of course it’s okay. I—Stiles, I never stopped loving you.” Stiles nods into his hands. He knows, he believes. “I still love you.”

And that’s the worst part, really. That they love each other enough to walk away, to let each other find the happiness they no longer have together.

“I hope you’re happy with him, Derek. I do.”

Maybe they’re the first words Stiles has really meant all night, the truth of them the only thought flitting through his mind. Maybe it’s because he does love Derek, still, after everything, and not having him anymore will be like losing a limb or an organ and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to figure out how to survive without it, without him, but he knows he has to try. Maybe it’s the way Derek isn’t happy anymore, and Stiles still wants so desperately for him to be happy.

“I know.” Derek whispers, the words catching on the sob ripped from his throat.

Stiles doesn’t leave until much later, after they’ve held each other for the last time, after they’ve said their silent goodbyes, let the feelings settle. Stiles holds Derek’s hand when his fingers start to tremble, wipes his tears when they start to leak out, holds him close when the sound of Derek’s aching sobs sinks into his bones.

He still feels the tortured ghost of what they used to have living inside of him, pounding, raging against the cage of flesh like it could beat its way out through Stiles’ chest. He knows it won’t go away, will stay, for a long, long while, and even then the shadow of the apparition will remain, just like the scattered pieces of their shipwrecked vessel. He’ll be picking up all those pieces for as long as he keeps loving Derek. It won’t be easy—might even be the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do—but he’ll do it.

Stiles knows when he walks out the door that something’s right.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a break up fic. 
> 
> ***Apparently the eventually happy ending tag could be misleading. I'm keeping it up, but you are warned.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment. I always reply.


End file.
